This weekend I went home and home's beauty embraced me with smells of lasagna and candles and apple cidar. On the green velvet sofa, and the pearls of memories embedded in its folds, I slept and found great comfort.In the marvelous tub, among white morning air and light, I found the solace of old, while casting projections of the past from mind to marble floor. And after that reflective dip I dressed and slipped out of doors to greet great hours and thank the earth for her autumn bounty.
Mom and I bounded about twisting, crispy sidewalks, filling our pockets with horse chestnuts and exchanging thoughts and flashes of the future--usually a favorite subject of mine. But the morning was better than imagination, and the day better than day dreams, and my heart happier than it could wish to be. There's something about going home...There's something about a turn of earth and growing up and remembering what's truly good. There's just something about being alive...
There's just something...
